"I'm in town."
"Thought I'd stop by."
"Come on. You know you can't resist me."
"Exactly. So I'll be there in a couple hours?"
"Unless you need a lift."
"Thought so. Where are you?"
"Airport. British Air terminal."
"Nah. I'll just borrow from you."
"Like always! So I'll see you soon?"
"But I don't mind it and you know it, so don't grumble at me."
"That's what I love about you, Adam: you don't let anything fool you."
"Even me. See you soon."
The door was barely closed behind them before Max started stripping off his clothes. That was a record even for him, and it left Adam dumbfounded and staring in amused curiosity.
"Either you haven't had any in a month or--"
"Or I stink," Max said, wrinkling his nose. "Where's the shower?"
"That way," Adam said, pointing.
"Great. Come on. We'll catch up while I get clean."
Innocent enough, Adam thought. "All right. I'll find you a towel."
"And then you can wash my back."
Adam rolled his eyes. "You know..."
"If you're lucky, I may even drop the soap."
"Max, this may come as a shock, but I do not intend to let you seduce me." This time, he added mentally.
Max shot him a smirk as he disappeared into the bathroom. Adam sighed. "Never listens," he muttered.
Not that that should have come as a shock. Adam had first met Max in an art museum, and he'd been attracted straightaway -- Max was tall, slender, dressed to get attention, hair moussed expertly into place. Adam wasn't the only one who'd noticed him, but he was flattered when he realized he was the only one Max seemed to be watching.
"Hey." That was, apparently, all the effort Max thought he needed to put into it.
He was mostly right. "Hey. Want to go somewhere and--"
"Shag? Why go somewhere? There's a perfectly good bathroom on the third floor."
"How romantic," Adam drawled. "I was going to say 'get a beer'..."
"Oh, you're one of those guys."
"One of what?" Adam asked, eyebrows going up. He didn't proposition men in public places often enough these days to know what 'type' he was, so he was very curious what the other man made of him.
"You like to talk before getting down to it. No problem." Max offered his hand. "I'm Max."
"Adam." Adam took Max's hand and shook it, tracing the inside of Max's wrist with his fingertips before letting go.
"Where do you want to get that beer?"
Adam grinned. "My refrigerator's stocked."
"Now we're talking. Lead the way."
Max wasn't thrilled about the walk, but he put up with it. And Adam was pretty sure he could make it worth Max's while, a hunch he delivered on as soon as they were inside, pinning Max to the door and peeling him out of his shirt with the proverbial years of practiced ease.
"Nice," Max murmured, "you do get hungry for it."
"You could spot that on me?" Adam asked, licking up Max's neck and sinking his teeth sharply into Max's pulse point.
"Yeah, I -- fuck -- 's why I went after you," Max panted.
"I thought I went after you," Adam said, stepping back and pulling his sweater off.
"Whatever -- can we just fuck now?"
Adam laughed and pulled Max over to the bed, waiting to get any more clothes off until they could tumble into bed right after. His own jeans hit the floor along with Max's cliched too-tight trousers, and then they were all over each other, lips and hands and teeth everywhere while they rolled around until they got into a comfortable position, Max on top and Adam's legs spread to accomodate him.
"You top," Adam observed, "how typical."
"You want to fuck me, it'll take more than a nice loft and an offer of beer," Max replied. Adam raised an eyebrow but didn't ask; Max glanced around, partly changing the subject, partly looking for something.
"Oh, like I care," Adam scoffed. "Do you?"
"Not really," Max admitted, "not if I'm on top. Lube, at least?"
Max fished it out and gave his cock a nice thorough slicking, and he pinned Adam's arms down. Adam raised his eyebrows again but didn't protest. "You play rough?" he asked.
"No," Max growled, putting a lie to the words as he slammed in, "I just like it the way I like it."
And the way he liked it was just fine by Adam, who'd had it harder than this more times than anyone could be expected to count. Adam didn't mind being pinned down, either, didn't mind the way Max fucked him into next week, and didn't mind much when Max came first, leaving Adam to wrench an arm free and finish himself off.
"So," Max said, sticky and smirking, "got a beer?"
It was more or less like that whenever Max came to town; fast, selfish, and unapologetic, and Adam learned to meet him on his own terms. He'd had fuckbuddies before, but Max was the first one he'd had in a while who liked to kiss and tell. Adam, thanks to years with the Watchers, had developed a not-so-secret voyeurism kink, and Max capitalized on it, using the latest probably-exaggerated story of one of his exploits to get himself out of the doghouse on more than one occasion.
He wasn't in the doghouse now, but he wasn't in Adam's bed, either, which was enough to make him frown.
"So what have you been up to while I've been away?" Max asked.
"Does that mean 'who'?"
"Well, if you think I haven't noticed the lack of my customary warm greeting from you, you're wrong."
"I'm seeing someone."
"Ah," Max said. And then, "So?"
Adam grabbed a pillow off the couch and threw it at him. "So we're doing the monogamy thing right now."
"Euchh!" Max declared. "Boring. You want to know how many blokes I've shagged in the last month?"
"You know I do."
"Is that all?"
"Don't laugh, I'm exhausted from that and I was saving some for you, I'll have you know." Max grinned. "Wanna hear about them?"
"Oh, why not."
"Well, the fiirst one paid me for it."
Adam squirmed. "George again? The guy with the dragon tattoo."
"Mmm, that's the one. Delicious little thing, too." Max strolled over to the couch and reached around Adam, sliding a hand down the back of his jeans. No easy feat, considering Adam was sitting up. "It's right there--"
"--hey now. Watch it..."
"I can't watch it, you're sitting on it," Max sniffed, but he did pull his hand back out of Adam's jeans. "Anyway, it turns out he'd been stood up for the last time by this lawyer chick he used to screw..."
"Come on, upstairs," George growled -- growled, George, that was a new one -- and despite this hotel's tendency to have a discreet clientele, George didn't wait for the elevator before pushing Max into the wall and biting at the back of his neck.
"Oof -- Jesus, watch it--"
"That bitch," George snarled, not listening, "that goddamned power-hungry bitch."
"I hear you, mate, but I'm not her."
"So I'll take it out on you." George bit Max's shoulder this time. "Do you mind?"
Max shook his head. "No," he whispered. "But it'll cost you."
"Fine." The elevator arrived with a ding and George pulled Max inside. "Come on."
Max went willingly, letting George pin his back against the elevator's back wall, groaning as George kicked his legs apart and shoved a thigh between them. "You want it like that?" Max gasped, "rough like that?"
"Yeah," George growled, leaning down to bite the side of Max's neck.
"Want to fuck that mean streak right out of your system?"
George didn't answer, but he bit down harder. Max yelped and got his hands on George's shoulders, squeezing.
"Want to take it out on someone? Sick of getting jerked around?"
"Shut up," George murmured. The elevator came to a halt, and he pulled Max down the hall, arm wrapped around Max's waist as they passed door after door until they got to George's room.
Once inside, George was even rougher. He got a hand on Max's shirt, and Max winced -- he liked this shirt, it was Italian silk -- but the move was obvious long before George made it, and Max didn't stop him. One jerk and buttons went flying, and Max grinned in spite of himself -- George looked good this hungry for it. "Bed?" he asked.
"Maybe I should just fuck you up against the wall," George said, pushing Max's shirt aside so he could scratch over a nipple. "Maybe I should just shove you on all fours on the floor and take you like that."
"Is that how you'd take her if she were here?" Max asked, arching up against George's fingernails. "All fours like a dog? Like the bitch she is?"
"Yeah," George whispered, "fuck, yeah. Go on. Now."
Max took the ten seconds necessary to strip out of his clothes -- losing a shirt to a client was one thing, but his suit was a nice enough counterfeit to pass for designer. He was on all fours as soon as the suit was gone, and George was right behind him. George hadn't bothered to get undressed. As far as Max could tell, George was down to one thought in his head, one instinct: fuck him. Now.
George took just enough time to get the condom on -- lucky me, Max thought -- before using one hand to part Max's buttocks and the other to jam his cock in. Max screamed -- George was, after all, paying for it -- and the fuck started in earnest, vicious animal thrusts driving George in hard enough that there was no need for theatrics; that hurt.
"You're squirming, Adam. What's the matter?"
"Got a thing for rough sex from the giving end, maybe? Want to put me on all fours and hear me--"
"Get back to the story, would you?"
"If you insist..."
Max came groaning, throat hoarse, and George came with him, shouting in broken sounds over Max's head. George collapsed as soon as it was over, gasping, hugging Max hard. "Fuck, I needed that," he panted. "You all right?"
"I'm fine," Max mumbled, "but my shirt's had better days."
George laughed. "I'll buy you a closet's worth. You don't really mind, do you?"
Max shook his head and reached up to ruffle George's hair. "I don't mind a bit."
"Did you get the clothes?" Adam asked.
"Mmhm. Versace. The real deal, which just goes to show that my ass is still a damn good moneymaker."
"Good for your ass," Adam smirked. "How about the rest of you?"
"Funny you should mention that. I did have a client who went for a package deal this past month."
"A package deal? What does that refer to exactly?"
"Max, this is Gerald. Gerald, Max." Vanessa smiled as the men shook hands. "Max has your checklist and your safeword, Gerald, so I'll leave you two to get better acquainted. If you need anything, I'll be right outside."
Max watched as Vanessa strolled off, then glanced at Gerald. "Any questions before we get started?"
"A few. How long have you known Vanessa?"
"Oh, five years, give or take."
"Have you co-topped with her?"
"Do you like scening with men?"
"In other words, is this a favor to a friend or am I actually interested in what you have to offer?" Gerald didn't answer; he blushed. Max grinned and reached out, running his fingertips over Gerald's cheek. "I'm very interested," he murmured. "How far do you want to go with this?"
"As far as it takes."
"Good answer." Max grinned again. Gerald really was his type; dark hair, slim frame... big nose. Well, Max was biased in the category of big noses. Not only was it a dead giveaway for... other departments... it was also a feature he shared, and one he happened to rather like on himself. "I want to start with you on your knees, out of your clothes. Undress for me."
"Yes, sir." Gerald took his sweater off, folded it neatly, and followed it with his shirt, his belt, and before long he was down to his tighty-whities (dear God, Max thought, I wonder if I can send him some boxers when we're done here) and kneeling on the carpet. He laced his hands behind his back and glanced up at Max.
"Those too." Max pointed. Gerald flushed but nodded, standing again to step out of them.
"Better." Max could see everything now, starting with the fact that Gerald was hard and continuing on to a smug assessment that he'd guessed right about the nose and its implications. He knelt down in front of Gerald, slid a hand over his chest, tweaked on of Gerald's nipples. Gerald closed his eyes, exhaled softly, but otherwise tried not to react.
"Don't hide from me," Max whispered, and he bent his head down so he could lick at the other nipple while twisting the first. This time Gerald jerked underneath him, groaning as Max deepened the contrast, licking gently and twisting roughly. Good, Max thought, I think we'll get somewhere today...
Vanessa would probably have been shocked, Max thought later, cock buried deep in Gerald's throat while Gerald was hog-tied and blindfolded, shoulders covered with already-fading marks. Then again, Vanessa had never really appreciated the beauty of a perfect blowjob, and she'd certainly never understood that sometimes a beating is enough, and other times a man wants to know that he's only there to be used in every way his top wants to use him. Even if it pushes past limits, Max thought.
Max had never had any trouble ignoring limits.
"That is so unethical," Adam scolded. "You promised you weren't going to fuck him--"
"I didn't fuck him. He gave me a blowjob. Come on, you haven't done something like that? Had a guy tell you let's just go this far and realized ten minutes later that he'd beg you to let him suck you? Beg, Adam. He wanted it. He just didn't want to admit he wanted it."
Adam was shifting uncomfortably again, shaking his head. "Maybe you could try a story that involves full consent of both parties next time."
"Hmm. Like Steve?"
"Oh, contractor Steve? Are you still seeing him?"
"I am," Max said, grinning, "and he's been very busy lately, what with his daughter's wedding and this new project he's got going on. But he did make time to see me when I was in town..."
"Mmm, God, you have the best hands..."
"Of course I do," Max said, shifting on Steve's thighs and working the oil a little deeper into his shoulders. "You're not expecting me to do a half-assed job when I haven't seen you in a month, are you?"
"Mmmmmm no..." Steve groaned, squirmed underneath Max and felt Max's cock rub up against his cleft. "Just promise you're still going to fuck me even if I fall asleep?"
"I thought you said this was fully consensual. Asleep doesn't count."
"Who says he actually fell asleep? God, listen to the end of the story before you jump on me, would you?"
"Unless you'd care to actually jump--"
"No, keep going. Please."
"I promise," Max said, "but who says I'm gonna let you fall asleep?" He planted his hands on either side of Steve's shoulders and gave him a nice slick thrust, cock drizzled with the same oil he was using on Steve's body. Steve groaned and tilted his hips back. "Feel like sleeping?" Max whispered.
"No," Steve whispered back, "no, please, c'mon, Max, fuck me..."
Sometimes it was quick and dirty with Steve, up against a door while Steve grabbed at him and pulled him close. Other times it was like this, slow and smooth, Steve pushing up on all fours and Max curling around him, one arm around his chest as he moved in long, steady strokes. It was the kind of fuck that could practically last forever, the sort that wasn't about the orgasm as much as drowning in the pleasure of all those slick glides.
Which didn't mean the orgasm wasn't good when it happened. But by the time they got that far, both men were so exhausted and soaked in sweat that they more or less collapsed on each other, figuring a nap would be just about the best thing in the world at the moment.
"Is that better, you fully-consensual prude?"
Adam snickered. "I am not a prude."
"But you did like that one."
"Oh, I always like hearing you talk about Steve. He sounds like a great guy. The sort of guy I'd have gone for back in my swinging single days..."
"Hey, hands off, I saw him first."
Adam raised an eyebrow. "Possessive about this one?"
"Well, not really. I just don't want him deciding he'd rather have you instead of me."
"Not too likely."
Max seemed somewhat mollified by the compliment -- assuming it was a compliment, which Max was inclined to do. But not mollified enough to keep from prodding at Adam with a toe. "All right, you tight-lipped bastard, your turn. Tell me about your guy."
Adam raised his eyebrows, the picture of innocence. "Don't know what you'd want to hear--"
"Everything! Come on, I'm giving you all the sordid details of my sex life--"
"Well, you have more sordid details to share."
"Ah, but I don't have anyone I was willing to be monogamous for." Max frowned. "Well -- I did try it for a while."
Adam nearly spit beer onto the floor. "You? Who with?"
"You wouldn't know him -- I doubt he'd be your type. Tall, olive skin. Built like a brick shithouse, as they say."
"They used to say more than that," Adam said. "Sounds familiar, though, like some guys I have run into. What was so special about him?"
Max fidgeted. "Well..."
"What time is it?" Max mumbled. He didn't get an answer in words, but Aaron grinned against his shoulder. Max could feel it. "Apparently the time is 'late enough'..."
"Haven't known you to complain yet," Aaron murmured. He rolled Max over a little more firmly. "You feel like starting now?"
"Not really," Max whispered, spreading his legs. "Aaron, listen--"
"Hmm?" Aaron wasn't paying much attention, Max suspected; he was too busy slicking his cock up and starting to work his way in. The burn was always so good with Aaron; Christ, the man was hung. Max groaned and fisted his hands in the sheets, trying to hold onto his thoughts. He'd been about to say something...
"Shh." Aaron wrapped a hand around Max's throat and put his lips at Max's ear. "Mine."
Max didn't protest.
"You're not answering. Hey--!" Adam snapped his fingers in front of Max's face. "Space cadet! Wake up!"
"Uhh," Max said, jerking and sitting bolt upright, "sorry. Got distracted by memory lane. This guy -- he was something else."
"So where is he?"
Max made a face. "He got possessive. Actually, he was never not possessive. I just couldn't handle it as well as he thought I could. He probably thinks I'll come back eventually."
"Any chance of it?"
Max grunted, which was both not an answer and an answer that spoke volumes. "Hey, wait a minute," he said suddenly. "Weren't you supposed to tell me about yours?"
"Oh, come on--"
"No no no, this time I will not be put off," Max insisted. "What's his name?"
"Duncan?" Max frowned. "Suppose it's no worse than Gerald. What does he do?"
"He owns a martial arts school. Teaches on occasion."
"Mm, small business owner. I like that. They're always so focused..."
"Yeah," Adam said, grinning. "He's definitely focused."
"Focused and well-hung."
Adam snorted beer through his nose. "I've had bigger," he said. "Had smaller, too, though."
"Why is it I'm the one with the sordid tales and it always seems like you've had one of everything?" Max groused.
"I'm older. I've had more time."
"Oh, please, older by what, five years? Seven? It's not that big a head start."
Adam grinned. "You'd be surprised."
"Whatever. Anyway, this martial arts instructor... did you end up fucking at the end of a wrestling match, maybe? That'd be nice and porny..."
"It was something like that."
Methos was winded as he got into the dojo, nearly ready to fall down, and if the buzz had been anyone but MacLeod he'd have probably turned around and used the last of his energy to run back down the stairs. Thank God there was at least one Immortal out there who wasn't after his head.
MacLeod came out of his office with a bottle of water, crossing the room to offer it to Methos, who leaned on him gratefully and took the water. "Rough fight?" MacLeod asked.
"No," Methos admitted, "but it was quite the Quickening. This one -- about seven hundred years old and..." He glanced at MacLeod, color infusing his cheeks as he pushed away gently. "And he had a tendency to go find someone to fuck as soon as he took a head," he said softly, "so it's a bit worse than usual this time. You might want to back off some."
MacLeod coughed. "Maybe you'd better take a cold shower. Come on. I'll close up in here; go ahead upstairs."
Methos nodded and went up to the loft, dropping his clothes in a messy line from the elevator to the bathroom. Cold water didn't help much; he came out of the bathroom wrapped in one of Mac's bathrobes, shivering so hard his teeth were chattering, and he still had an embarrassing hard-on. It's going to be a rough night.
MacLeod made it up to the loft a few minutes later, and Methos winced when the buzz hit full-force. He rolled over, shoving himself into the couch cushions, wishing his cock would either fall off already or just ignore the fact that Mac was nearby and Immortal and entirely too fucking attractive for his own good.
"You look awful."
Methos dug himself out of the couch enough to glare over his shoulder at MacLeod. "Thanks a lot."
"Cold shower didn't do much?"
"What do you think," Methos muttered, shoving himself back into the cushions.
"I think you're going to make me crazy if you stay here tonight."
Methos winced. "All right." He sat up, rubbed his hands through his hair. "I'll find a hotel, or maybe stay with Joe--"
"Or maybe stay here."
Methos's head snapped up as he frowned again. "Mac--"
Which was all he had time for, since Mac was close enough to lean in and kiss him.
"I'm not following -- it feels like you're leaving out too much of the story," Max complained. "You get into a fight with some guy who's had too much to drink, you come home horny, and your friend jumps you?"
"More or less."
Methos dragged Mac back onto the couch. "You bastard," he groaned between kisses and licks and bites, "you could have told me you were interested, I'd have done this without needing to be desperate after a Quickening--"
"I'll remember that for next time," Mac panted, jerking his clothes off and getting Methos's robe open. "Lube -- where -- I know I have lube--"
"Oh, for fuck's sake, I've been getting fucked since before they invented spit. Just fuck me!"
"Ow." Max winced. "Your first time with the guy and you do it bareback with no lube?"
Adam blushed. "Like you've never wanted it that bad before..."
"Yeah. Once. Surely you know better than that."
"It just seemed like a good idea at the time."
"I'm hurting you," Mac gasped, but he wasn't moving. Methos knew the look on Mac's face all too well: please don't make me stop, I don't think I can. "I should--"
"You should keep going," Methos snarled, wrapping his legs around Mac's thighs and pulling him in tighter. "You stop and I'll kill you."
"You kill me and you don't get fucked," Mac pointed out, driving in again, the friction a little less with every stroke.
"Oh -- I might -- die anyway," Methos panted, shoving a hand between them and squeezing his cock. "Just don't stop. Whatever you do, don't stop."
Not a chance. Mac kissed Methos again, hard this time, as hard as he was fucking him, and Methos groaned as he came all over his fingers and both men's chests, sticky and wet and not the least bit ready to be finished.
"Keep going?" Mac panted.
Hours later, the couch was disgusting, and Methos had never looked so smug.
"Think you can get to the bed?" he asked. "You're getting heavy."
"Please?" Methos reached up and tickled MacLeod under the arm. "I'm rather smushed here."
MacLeod squirmed but didn't move. "You'll live."
Methos sighed. "I suppose I will."
Adam chucked a pillow at Max. "You asked."
"So are you still fucking like crazed minks?"
"Every chance we get," Adam said with a grin.
"Well, that's good. I'd hate to think you'd need to come home after a bar fight every time you wanted this guy to fuck you."
Adam actually looked horrified at that. "Perish the thought."
Groaning a little, Max lifted himself off the couch and headed for the refrigerator. "So you really are serious about the guy, eh? You don't want to fool around while I'm here?" He couldn't resist bending over as he dug the last two beers out of the refrigerator.
"Attractive as your bum is, no. I think I'll stick with my Scotsman."
"Hmm." Max came back, handed over a beer. "Just one question, then."
Max flashed Adam one of his best grins. "Does he do threesomes?"